


'til it kills you both

by kay_emm_gee



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/M, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:06:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6530449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there was ever a time for a zombie attack, Eleanor would want it to be now because it would solve the thorn in her side that was Charles Vane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'til it kills you both

**Author's Note:**

> Title based on a quote from Buffy the Vampire Slayer

If there was ever a time for a zombie attack, Eleanor would want it to be now because it would solve the thorn in her side that was Charles Vane.

She gripped the railing at the top of the town wall tighter, staring at the Jeep below. The Ranger crew grinned up at her, darkly, waiting for her eventual call to open the gate. She grit her teeth in rage and annoyance, knowing she didn’t have another choice. The boxes of food and ammunition in the back would keep them stocked for weeks, and everyone on the wall could see that. If she didn’t want the people of Nassau, of her town, rioting against her, she had to open the gate.

Still, the smug smile that Charles--Vane, _Vane_ , she chastised herself silently--was wearing as he stood with his arms crossed dozens of feet below her made her want to lock the gate and never open it to him again.

With a hopeless glance towards the horizon--and no decaying and ravenous monsters in sight, much to her misfortune--she lifted her hand and signaled for the gate to open. From the driver’s seat, Rackham honked the horn in victory and Anne tipped her hat at the gunners who came through to escort them in.

“See that they catalog the stock properly, please?” She seethed to Scott, who looked as disgruntled as she felt.

“Understood,” her second-in-command agreed before heading towards the ladder that would bring him into the yard below.

Eleanor stayed up on the observation deck for a few more minutes to collect herself. No doubt when she went below, she would have to deal with the smugness of the Ranger crew. It was well-known throughout the settlement that Charles (Vane, Vane, _Vane_ ) headed the best raider crew they had seen in years. Unfortunately for her, it made his and his crew’s egos and wildness impossible to reign in, but even she could admit it was almost warranted. They rarely failed when they went out on a raid. It was the only reason she allowed them refuge; the second they stopped being useful though was the second she would put them beyond the wall without a single regret.

Ignoring the faint protest that rose at that thought, she breathed in deeply before climbing down the ladder to return to her responsibilities. As soon as her feet touched the packed earth, however, she wished she had stayed above. Already she could hear the shouts of triumph echoing from the warehouse, and it made her frown.

 _Damn fools are going to attract a hoard_ , she thought darkly as she hurried back to headquarters.

It only took a few hours and the sun to set for her to be proved right. Hornigold radioed her in his usual disgruntled tone to give her a location and rough number estimate. In a flash, she grabbed her crossbow and headed for the wall. As she made her way through the firelit yard, she felt the usual thrum of anxiety tangle with the thrill of excitement the threat of an attack always elicited. Shadows from celebrating inhabitants of Nassau played long and lithe on the wall as she climbed up, bow slung over her back.

Hornigold and Billy nodded when she approached them just past the east gate.

“Only a few dozen,” Billy confirmed. “Doesn’t look like any more will join them.”

Eleanor cocked a grim smile at him, then propped her bow up on her shoulder. It was time for a little target practice.

Just as she was about to loose the first arrow, though, a gunshot fired through the night. A zombie fell, head exploding in a mess of blood and grey matter; the rest swiveled their attention to source of the sound.

“Fuck,” Eleanor swore as her gaze landed on the figure standing yards down the wall, tall with burly arrogant shoulders. “Fuck. He’s wasting perfectly good ammunition.”

His name in her voice rang through the darkness, furious and sharp, demanding that he stop. She didn’t need to see Vane’s face to know he was wearing a smirk as he let off two more shots before the gate creaked open below. Glancing down, she saw Anne and Jack slip out, blades drawn, to take care of the remaining zombies.

Trusting they wouldn’t screw that job up, Eleanor strode down the wall walkway toward the asshole who had cost them three perfectly good bullets for no apparent reason other than he felt like it.

“Evening,” he greeted her lazily, leaning against the wall railing. She suppressed the urge to send him tumbling right over.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” She spat out.

“Helping.”

“You’re helping us run out of ammo faster, that’s for sure.”

“It was just three--”

“Three too many,” she yelled, stepping closer. Vane straightened and uncrossed his arms, clearly fighting a grin.

“We brought back way fucking more than three bullets in the raid today so I think we’re safe.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is? That I broke your rules?”

“They’re there for a reason.”

“Which is that you like rules. I don’t.”

Her hand tightened on the crossbow, and her fingers itched to reach for an arrow. Vane glanced down at the motion. He chuckled under his breath as he moved so close she could feel his too-familiar heat. Eyes glinting in the moonlight, he bent over until his lips were at her ear.

“Go on. I’d like to see you try,” he murmured before brushing past her, whistling in response to the shout that Jack made from below to signal the completion of their task.

A light breeze swirled around Eleanor as she glared after Vane, heart thumping too wildly for her liking and loose hair strands tickling her neck, just like his breath had a few seconds ago. She hated that he still made her feel this way, even after weeks of ignoring him, of ignoring what they had been (intense, deep, vicious, all-consuming).

For a second, she considered raising the crossbow, but while she hesitated as memories of greedy, thick fingers and demanding, rough lips washed over her, he disappeared down the ladder. Her chance--at what, she didn’t know--was lost, and Eleanor sighed, relieved and disappointed at the same time.

**Author's Note:**

> I might be persuaded to write a follow-up to this if there's interest, so let me know :)


End file.
